


Chilly

by previouslysane



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/previouslysane/pseuds/previouslysane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A window into the domestic life of Troy and Abed. Sometimes a repairman doesn't have the tools he needs at hand, and the heating goes dead in the middle of the night. The only tools available aren't just wrenches and hammers. Sometimes the tools we need the most were right at our fingertips the whole time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chilly

**Author's Note:**

> This was literally just the drabbliest drabbles that I could ever possibly produce. This is my first Community fic and I love the Trobed relationship, romantic or otherwise. Right so. Yeah!!

  
Troy couldn’t believe it. Of all days for the heating to fail, it had to fail on the night that he leant Jeff all of his tools. Troy was wearing three pairs of socks, a hoodie and some of the warmest sweatpants he owned, completely swaddled underneath his comforter, and it still wasn’t enough. The tip of his nose felt like it was about to break off from being so cold. He curled in on himself. He wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer, he’d have to get in his car and drive to Britta’s or Jeff’s.  
  
A soft tentative knock disturbed his thoughts. Oh right. Abed was out in the bunk with a disgrace of a blanket. Abed just opened the door, wearing a hat and a hoodie, visibly shivering with bare feet.  
“Normally I would be against such excessive touching, but can I stay here tonight?” He asked. Troy lifted the blanket to a rush of cold, dry air and Abed rushed into his arms. He was shaking and making that high pitched noise that he often made when something was happening that he didn’t like. He was freezing, his feet were stiff ice blocks that refused to melt against the thick comforter. Even though they were both huddled under the cover for warmth, Abed was still awkwardly placed away from him.  
  
“Why are you so far away?” Troy asked.  
  
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Abed’s voice was just as monotone as it usually was, but it was much softer than Troy was used to. Troy rolled his eyes and pulled Abed into his arms, resting Abed’s freezing face into his neck. Troy flinched a little bit at the sudden temperature change on his skin, but he buried his icy nose into the top of Abed’s hat. He smelled so good, and he felt so warm against him. Abed’s shivering had minimized greatly, to Troy’s pleasure.  
  
“I’m tired.” Abed murmured. He never spoke like this unless he was tired or distracted. His voice was always the same unless he was a different character or completely exhausted.  
  
“Go to sleep.” Troy said into Abed’s hat.  
  
“When we sleep, our body temperatures drop from lack of movement.” Abed said. “What if I freeze in my sleep?”  
  
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.” Troy said. “I mean, it probably won’t, on account of that it’ll be sunny in a few hours and the sun will heat up the rooms at least a little bit. And we’re wearing like sixteen layers of clothes. And also we’re together. Body heat’s gotta count for something.”  
  
“I don’t feel good.” Abed said, his voice caught in his throat.  
  
“Look, just… go to sleep.” Troy said, his eyelids drooping as he pressed himself closer to Abed. Troy and Abed used to have conversations in the bunk bed at times, just to say that they’ve had bunk talk. Often times it was about heists that they wanted to pull, or possible ideas for the next Troy and Abed in the Morning. But this time it was too cold. Nothing felt fun or silly. Troy just felt tired and cold, and Abed was too cold to even be joking or making references. Troy was nearly certain as soon as he heard the knock on that door that Abed would begin his speech with a reference to a movie where people had to survive by huddling together for warmth. It didn’t happen. And it still didn’t happen. Abed was still shivering a bit, his elbows tucked into his stomach and his hands curled loosely around the other. His breathing was soft and even. Troy thought he had drifted off to sleep until Abed breathed,  
  
“Do you promise to be here in the morning?”  
  
Troy nodded groggily. “Yeah, buddy. I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

~*~*~

  
Troy woke up with a pounding headache and sweating like a marathon runner. He was still wearing his hoodie and swaddled underneath a blanket with Abed, but it seemed like the heating had been fixed in the middle of the night. That was a relief, though it was really uncomfortable to wake up to. Troy tried to blink away the sleep from his eyes, before realizing that Abed was clinging onto him like a child to a toy. Troy looked at him. He breathed softly and evenly, the rise and fall of his chest was so subtle that it was a miracle that he survived the night with such little oxygen. Abed had removed his hoodie, hat, pants and shirt in the middle of the night, it seems. Troy touched his forehead and felt the flames of illness underneath his palm.  
  
“Damn.” Troy sighed. Abed was sick. Abed while sick was probably one of the worst experiences in Troy’s understanding. When he woke up, Abed would roll over onto his back and moan about feeling bad and request a specific soup that only his mom could make. Troy would probably have to go over to the Nadir household and get some sort of substitute for Polish chicken soup. While Troy ran all of these things over in his head, Abed sighed in his sleep, frowning in some dream. Troy watched him.  
  
The flush on Abed’s cheeks and nose and the light, cool sweat that covered his body was very alluring. He looked soft in these pre-conscious moments. He looked peaceful, though he was completely restless inside. Troy often wondered what it was like inside Abed’s head. He would never admit it to the rest of the group or even to Abed, but Troy was worried about his best friend. Sometimes Abed did and said things that frightened Troy to his very core. Sometimes Abed showed signs for being seriously ill, and he continuously wondered if he was failing as a friend by ignoring these and avoiding getting help that he thought Abed seriously needed.  
  
Abed mumbled something in his sleep and shifted closer towards Troy. Troy knew that it was a bad idea, but he rested a hand on Abed’s firm back and pressed him close. He liked Abed. He liked being close to Abed. Even though he didn’t like how Abed treated him while he was sick, he liked taking care of Abed. It meant that Abed needed him, and he liked feeling useful. He wondered about Abed. He thought about Abed. He felt the churning body below him and smiled at the beating heart and the rushing blood. He closed his eyes and smiled into the warm hair that smelled like shampoo, curry, and a thick warm something that was nutty and sweet and entirely Abed Nadir. He never wanted to lose his best friend. His eyes closed even tighter, a frown forming in his brow. He never had a friendship like this before. He couldn’t even imagine losing Abed. He didn’t want to. He refused to imagine it. Wow brain, stop that shit right now. Don’t imagine him getting in a car accident. Don’t think about him getting caught up on a drive by. Don’t think about hate crimes. God, this was getting to a point of ridiculousness. He instinctually pulled Abed even closer to him. Abed groaned.  
  
“Touching. Touching stop.” He moaned. Abed was very particular about touching. Troy let go and looked at Abed.  
  
“I have good news and bad news.” Troy said. He knew that Abed liked the good news first and the bad news second and also sung with a catchy melody. “The good news is that we have heating again. The bad news…. You-- haaaave a feee-ver!” Troy sung. Abed groaned and rolled to his back, clutching his head.  
  
“Ibeprofen.” He demanded. Troy rolled his eyes. “Being sick is so much easier when you’re watching it happen for plot progression.”  
  
“Of course it is. Life is easier to watch than to live.” Troy said.  
  
“Where’d you get that line?”  
  
“On the back of a Captain Crunch box.” Troy said proudly.  
  
“Whatever, get me my medicine.”  
  
“I don’t like your tone of voice, mister.” Troy crossed his arms. Abed clutched his head and curled up.  
  
“Now!” His voice was raspy, and he fell into a fit of wet coughs as he rolled around on the bed in discomfort.  
  
“Yeesh.” Troy said, throwing the blanket off of himself. The morning had faded away. The morning of silent Abed, the morning of cold Abed. The mornings where he loved Abed for being everything that the world could’ve given Troy as a person. He loved abed so much-- Abed was his best friend. Even now as the selfish boy groaned on the bed, in apparent agony over a simple head cold, Troy loved him. Troy chuckled as he retrieved the medicines for Abed. Giving into the demands of a madman were easy when you were mad yourself.


End file.
